Porcupine Ridge they call holidays an option for a reason,

indeed, it seemed an awful lot to take in. caiaphas absorbed the news of an attack on vercingetorix’s child with flat eyes, unphased by his volatile (yet at this point, rather characteristic) outburst. it seemed she was not his only enemy — inwardly, she smiled to hear that someone else would be willing to do her dirty work. 

for caiaphas had not forgotten, vercingetorix had yet to feel the cold blade of her vengeance. she would come for him and his someday, if she lived long enough; that much was certain. 

vercingetorix lunged, exposing his flank. it was tempting, but caiaphas remained rooted to her spot. she was in no position to incite violence, even if the cards were in her favor. as tantalizing as it seemed to rip into the dragedan exactly how he deserved, caiaphas had darker designs for revenge. 

curious how the scarred yet familiar wolf had taken vercingetorix’s roaring tantrum, caiaphas turned to him and regarded him with cool composure. he was about to speak when the first rumbling of dissent came beneath them; caiaphas braced, feeling a rippling retort thunderously roar underneath them. 

the cataclysm was followed by distant shattering and a hollow, repetitive boom — caiaphas recognized it as the growl of a landslide. her fur was at ends as she collected herself from her braced stance, her eyes flashing with alarm that did not quite reach her voice. sounds like you’ve made many enemies, then. her noncommittal reply was followed by a cold shrug. i did what was right for my family. no use attempting to defend herself further, she thought.